Hot in the City

Pansy

Pansy found herself practically wrapped around Harry fucking Potter, of all people, her heart pounding in her chest in a way that she couldn't excuse with the stimulants they'd dabbled in earlier. With Daphne's pronouncement, she'd looked to him, expecting to see a matching look of surprise, but was instead met with an infuriating quirked eyebrow and a shrug.

That's why she now sat with his arm wrapped behind her, her own reaching behind his back, practically crushed against his chest as in front of them, Daphne smirked and wriggled her body in an entirely-too-enticing manner. The blonde witch was practically a work of art, wreathed in layers of white silk and lace, the bustier and garter belt included in her outfit not appearing at all outdated on the stunning woman.

Pansy would have cursed her own lack of foresight if she was actually upset at this turn of events, but she'd honestly never expected the night to develop into a potential threeway of all things. Sure, she'd come to Daphne's flat fully intending to fuck her brains out, and teasing Potter was just a little thrilling, but to think of both? At once?

The degree to which this idea flustered her was distinctly un-Slytherin of her, and she immediately came to the conclusion that she would need to seize control back of this situation, not sit there gawking at Daphne while Potter was looking spectacularly un-bothered by this development.

Without words, she reached with her free arm to Potter's chest, prying at the buttons keeping his shirt on. Daphne had promised to match her guests' state of undress, after all, and while her lingerie was jaw-dropping, the lines of soft muscle and curves that it contained were Pansy's next target.

"Mmm," Daphne observed, "that's more like it."

Harry didn't overtly react, though Pansy felt his chest rise as he took a deep breath, her slender fingers dancing over his shirt and laying his chest bare. Merlin, she thought, as she took stock of his toned muscles and the faint shadows of as-yet-unseen tattoos, he's grown up well. Pulling the tails of his shirt from his pants, she quickly grew frustrated at Daphne's stupid limitations, unable to remove his shirt entirely with only one hand free to use.

"Oh, eager, are we?" Daphne asked, walking closer to the pair on the couch, her hips rolling and legs flexing in absolutely fascinating ways.

"To get you undressed," Pansy answered, more brusquely than she'd even intended, "absolutely. Now help me get this shirt off so we can get to you."

Daphne laughed, a high, musical sound which immediately brought to mind several different ways that she could use her mouth instead which Pansy would have greatly preferred. Still, as she closed the gap, she leaned over Potter, her long blonde hair falling in a waterfall over his face, as she gently trailed her fingertips up his bare chest on their way to his shoulders, where she helped Pansy to finally remove his shirt.

Pansy could feel his hitching breath against her side, and her own small gasp went (hopefully) unnoticed as his torso was revealed, a patchwork medley of scars marked with occasional tattoos across his back and chest. He was pale, but not in a sickly way, a respectably-groomed dusting of dark hair at the center of his chest diminishing as it trailed down his abdomen and under his belt.

Fine, she thought, Harry fucking Potter is absolutely fuckable.

"Of course," Daphne continued, her hips still swaying as it took damn near every last bit of Pansy's willpower not to reach out and slap her across her full arse, "the two of you are a team in this little game, it only counts if it's both of you."

"Can't say I'm complaining," Harry said, with only the slightest waver in his voice, damn it, turning his head to look at Pansy. While Harry wasn't the tallest man, Pansy was quite far from the tallest woman, and seated beside each other in this manner she had to raise her eyes slightly to meet his, which almost fucking sparkled with mirth.

She couldn't help the way that her skin tingled as his own fingers brushed against her side, finding the zipper at the top of her dress almost immediately. The only sound in the room, other than the driving bassline coming from Daphne's record player, was the torturously slow zzziiiipppp as her dress was opened.

Then Daphne perched over her, not quite sitting on Pansy's lap, but the lack of substantial contact only served to heighten the sensation as Daphne's own fingers just barely grazed the sides of Pansy's neck, dipping behind her ears as Pansy craned her head up despite her own intentions. Daphne's lips were quirked in a delicious smirk as she reached to the back of Pansy's neck, bringing the loop of satin which held her dress up over her head.

Pansy knew that her breasts were, objectively, not the largest, but she was damn proud of how they sat on her slender frame. When it came to her physical assets, she had considered herself to be blessed with quality over quantity, both her arse and her tits of a medium size but perfectly shaped, in her own not-so-humble opinion.

An opinion which, if their reactions were any indicator, Daphne and Potter shared. Potter didn't even bother to hide his leering, the cups of her bra just managing to restrain her tits, the edges dipping low enough to stop barely above her nipples. Daphne smiled, and slowly stroked her fingers across the top of Pansy's chest, stopping at the point just below her collar bone where her breasts swelled from her chest.

"The first move is yours," Daphne drawled, her voice taking on a smokier tone given their activities. "What am I removing, then?"

"Bustier," Pansy answered, immediately. Daphne may have been the one in charge of this little game, but Pansy would not let Potter be responsible for making decisions, if he even knew what the articles of Daphne's apparel were called.

Daphne's grin was vulpine, as she stood straight, spinning slowly around to face away from Pansy and Harry, and the two layers of fabric over her arse did absolutely nothing to hide its form from her observers. Her thighs were thick in the way that only a difficult-to-attain mix of muscle and softness could be, her calves similarly round but strong, but Pansy was fairly sure that she could spend literal hours just kneading, slapping, and otherwise appreciating Daphne's backside.

"Fuck," Harry breathed beside her, and for once Pansy was not inclined to offer a rebuke. Daphne continued her writhing display, making a show of reaching behind her back to begin undoing the ties of her bustier, each knot coming undone just a bit more quickly than the one before it. As the garment dropped to the floor, Daphne turned with her arms raised above her head, revealing her own bra-clad breasts.

Merlin, what breasts they were. If Pansy were to be completely objective, she probably had Daphne beat in that particular department, but she'd seen few other women who would have competed favourably against either of them. Daphne's bra was a mix of lace and nearly transparent silk, offering glimpses of barely-hidden flesh beneath the swirling design of the fabric.

Words were becoming rapidly unnecessary, as Daphne approached the couch again, putting a hand on the inside of the knee of each of Potter and Pansy, pushing their legs slightly apart while they remained in very close contact with one another. As Daphne perched so that she had one of her own knees between the legs of each of her guests, she leaned forwards, offering an unimpaired view down the front of her bra. Pansy caught the briefest (too fucking brief) glimpse of pink areolae before Daphne straightened, leaning back in a way that showcased the lines of her abdominal muscles and the exceptional structure of her hips.

"That's all?" Daphne asked, a mocking pout in the tone of her voice. "Just your shirts, then?"

Pansy did not wait to ask him before her hand snaked between Daphne's knee and Potter, going for his belt.

Harry

Well, this is turning out better than I expected, Harry thought, as Daphne swayed above him while Pansy fished as his belt. He'd found himself at a loss for words a while ago, and was thankful to whatever forces had conspired to put him in this situation that these two stunningly beautiful witches seemed perfectly content to continue Daphne's game on their own volition without requiring his input.

In truth, he suspected that he was likely to run out of the blood required to keep his brain running pretty soon, his cock already halfway to hardness without actually being touched yet, despite his own (ridiculous, even to him) efforts to keep his body under control. He bit down on his tongue to stifle a moan as the back of Pansy's hand grazed against his developing erection as she undid the zipper of his pants, thrusting his hips forwards without any further encouragement required as Daphne helped to pull his pants the rest of the way down.

"Very nice, Harry," Daphne drawled, as she moved to a kneeling position in front of him, her arms placed perfectly to push her breasts forward towards her audience. "Still only counts if it's both of you."

He didn't wait for further instruction, gripping the side of Pansy's dress and yanking it downwards, a brief yelp escaping her lips as he used the hand he had behind her back to lift her hips up and allow him to slide the dress off her entirely. Her tits bounced as she returned to leaning against him, sending another thrill through his body that terminated between his legs.

While he hadn't exactly been chaste in recent times, it had been a while since he'd had sex, and he'd never managed to find his way into a threesome before. It wasn't like he'd ever considered Pansy to be bad-looking or anything like that, but he'd never seriously considered what it would be like to fuck her before this night.

Not that he was the focus of her attention, a fact that he didn't blame Pansy for in the slightest: Daphne was long known as one of the most beautiful witches at Hogwarts even when they were teens, and she'd somehow become more attractive as she'd grown into an adult. The actual, literal strip-tease she was performing only added to her appeal.

"My stockings, maybe?" Daphne asked, continuing her game.

"No," Harry interrupted whatever Pansy was going to say, surprising himself with how rough his voice sounded, "your garter belt. I want to see your arse."

"Best idea you've had all night, Potter," Pansy interjected, speaking directly to him for the first time in the last few minutes. Harry became a little more consciously aware of how warm she felt against his side, the bare skin of their torsos touching at the waist, their legs pressed together, his hand resting at her back just above the curve of her ass.

Daphne stood smoothly, wriggling her hips as she slowly, methodically undid the clasps attached to her stockings. Harry and Pansy let out groans together as Daphne bent at the waist, pulling the garter belt over her incredible legs, revealing the lacy set of butterfly-styled underwear that disappeared between her luscious ass cheeks.

Harry believed, honestly and truly, that Daphne Greengrass may have had the finest arse he'd ever laid his eyes on. The prospect of laying something more than eyes on her was the last straw for what remained of his self-control, as he felt blood pumping into his cock, his erection beginning to strain against his underwear.

"Mmh," Daphne muttered, her eyes sliding over her guests, lingering at Harry's waist, then glancing downwards, "you get a freebie, wearing just socks would look ridiculous, Harry."

She actually crawled towards him as she knelt, her hands running down the inside of his thighs, as she pulled his socks off. Harry was left speechless as she stood, exaggeratedly raising her arse above her shoulders before the rest of her body followed.

"Potter," Pansy gasped, "front clasp."

As Harry grasped her meaning, Daphne sat fully on Pansy's lap, her legs straddling both Harry and Pansy as she rocked her hips towards the other woman. Not wasting any time, Harry's hand went to the front of Pansy's bra, briefly roaming over her own lacy apparel before he found the clasp.

Pansy's bra fell open, revealing her outright incredible breasts – were it not for a barely-noticeable trail of freckles at the top of her chest, Harry would have suspected that Pansy's chest had been crafted by magic to be perfect, her tits were so round, full, and firm. Small, dark nipples drew his eye, small bits of glittering silver indicating the piercing in each one.

Harry sucked in breath in awe as Daphne leaned forwards, planting her hands firmly on Pansy's tits, and pressing her face forward into Pansy's to snare one of Pansy's lips between her own. This sight marked another first for Harry's sexual adventures, as he'd never been privy to witness two women going at each other with quite the intensity or sheer eroticism that Pansy and Daphne were now putting on display.

He was almost too awe-struck to move, until Daphne pulled back from Pansy, her chest heaving with breath, pupils wide with lust. She glanced towards Harry, made a small "tch" sound, then removed one of her hands from Pansy in order to take Harry's free hand and plant it firmly on her arse. The first squeeze that Harry took fulfilled all his expectations, and the feel of Pansy's fingers digging into his hip as it was her turn to take a shuddering breath only enhanced the sensation.

As quickly as one of the snakes of her former house, Daphne moved seamlessly from Pansy to Harry, pressing her lips against his and gently seeking his mouth with her tongue. On top of everything else, she was an excellent kisser, her tongue dancing against his with skill and her lips moving to capture his at any time they had to pause for breath.

"Daph," Pansy almost whined, "We took more clothes off, it's your turn."

Harry could feel Daphne's lips quirk into a smile against his, and without hesitation shifted her position to reach behind herself, unclasping her bra. Once more, Pansy and Harry moaned in concert – while not quite as large or as round as Pansy's breasts, Daphne's tits were definitely at least a handful in size, slightly fuller at the bottom in a way that imparted a very slight up-turn to the rosy nipples surrounded by faint, pink areolae which capped her breasts.

He scarcely had time to appreciate the sight fully before Daphne reached behind his head, pulling his face against her chest, and he felt Pansy receive the same treatment beside him, their faces pressed side-by-side as each began to lavish Daphne's breasts with attention. Harry gripped Daphne's ass firmly, pulling her closer to the pair on the couch, her knees sliding easily between each of her guest's parted legs to push against their respective sexes.

All too quickly, Daphne withdrew from her guests, standing from the couch, and sashaying to the other end of it.

"Enough games." She stated, confidently.

Daphne leaned back, extending her legs fully into the air as she slid her panties off, displaying her pink, lustrous pussy with the slightest strip of fine blonde hair above it.

"Come over here." She commanded.

Daphne

Fuck. Daphne had never taken two partners at once before, and was finding herself enjoying this experience more than she had imagined when she'd first made the impulsive choice to insert herself into the sexual tension going on between Harry and Pansy. Fucking… wow.

Though she didn't object to taking the more authoritative role she'd just been playing, Daphne usually found that she preferred to be the one who was, if not quite submissive, following the other person's lead. With the two in front of her, who both stared at her with naked lust in their eyes as Pansy untangled herself from Harry, prowling towards Daphne on all fours, she was very, very curious to see what form their desires would take.

She would not complain if it wound up that she was the object of both of their attention, but what she really wanted to see was the first moment where the two of them actually started acknowledging each other.

There was time to worry about that later, she knew, as her thoughts were instead consumed by the fact that Pansy had crawled over top of her, their breasts crushing together as Pansy seized Daphne's mouth in a fierce kiss. Pansy was the more aggressive of the two, with teeth nipping and her tongue thrusting as if she were claiming ownership of Daphne's mouth.

A second set of hands trailed down her body, gently tweaking a nipple, before continuing downwards, avoiding her pussy (Daphne would have been disappointed, were it not for Pansy's actions more than compensating) and trailing up her legs. Harry's hands, stronger and rougher than she would have expected, exerted the subtlest amount of pressure to push her legs apart.

"Ohh," she moaned, as she felt his tongue graze against the junction of her leg and her hip. Her attention was immediately refocused on Pansy, who had pinched one of her nipples, peppering kisses and bites against the side of Daphne's neck. Not to be outdone, Harry deftly brushed along her slit with the very tip of his tongue, his approach light and teasing where Pansy was hot and heavy in her affection.

The contrast only added to Daphne's enjoyment, her nerves practically sparking with anticipation as her two newest lovers set about their worship of her body: Pansy squeezing Daphne's breasts together and rolling her nipples between her fingers in one moment, Harry's hands pushing underneath her arse to lift her pussy against his mouth the next.

"How's she taste, Potter," Pansy hissed, not sounding like a question but more like a command.

"Incredible," Harry answered, before resuming his ministrations.

"Shove off," Pansy continued, sliding down the couch towards where Harry was crouched. "I want a turn." Harry did not reply, merely pursing his lips against Daphne's clit in a way that drew a choked moan from her. Daphne saw Pansy frown in a way that looked distinctly like a pout, and reached out to try and draw the woman back into another kiss, but Pansy was not to be deterred.

"Not that you even know what you're doing," Pansy sneered, grabbing one of Daphne's legs and swinging it up and then over herself. "Here, watch this."

Daphne could have died in that very moment and been content with her sexual history – when Harry paused to look up in curiosity, Pansy had lunged forwards, her tongue pressing inside Daphne, flicking and rolling expertly.

"Fuck!" Daphne cried as a slender finger entered her, her next cry becoming wordless and insensible as Pansy's digit was pressed upwards by the entrance of a second, thicker finger. Her hands thrashed around her head, out of her conscious control, finally settling on the backs of the heads of the two people knelt between her legs, both seemingly devoted to proving their own talents at eating her pussy.

If this was the form their competition took, Daphne had no complaints, bucking and writhing, their two tongues dancing along her sex, at times Pansy pressing roughly forwards, at others Harry delicately teasing her with light touches.

"FuckfuckfuckFUCK" Daphne screamed, as both of them looked up at her, two pairs of green eyes under black hair staring at her with abject hunger as their fingers curled into her g-spot, their tongues dancing together over her clit. The orgasm left her legs twitching, her pelvis pushing up towards the ceiling.

As thought returned to her through the orgasmic haze, she saw Harry and Pansy, sitting side by side, staring at each other with a look that was between a challenge and desire.

Harry

He practically throbbed with excitement, looking into Pansy's eyes, both of them panting for breath despite not being the target of their shared activity. Does that count as snogging? Harry wondered, almost laughing at the oddness of the situation, to wonder whether or not going down on a woman together had counted as kissing Pansy fucking Parkinson.

"I want," Pansy gasped, turning from Harry, "I want you to repay the favour now, Daph." She crawled back towards Daphne, who was sprawled out, her skin flushed and an unfocused smile on her face. "Potter, I expect you can amuse yourself."

Harry did, in fact, have an idea of how to do that, glancing towards Daphne, who nodded and muttered something like the word "potion" under her breath, assuaging his concerns about protection before he even needed to ask.

In an evening filled with many of the more erotic sights he'd ever witnessed, Pansy pulling her underwear down, swinging a leg over Daphne's head, and planting her pussy firmly against the other woman's mouth had to rank near the top. Hurriedly removing his own underwear, Harry crouched forward, running his hands softly against the insides of Daphne's thighs, who eagerly spread her legs at his hint.

Harry pushed forwards, sliding his cock inside her slowly, an excruciatingly pleasurable sensation as the slick warmth surrounded him. One of his hands went to Daphne's breasts as if by instinct, the other gripping her hip, pulling her against him as he gradually began to thrust in earnest.

Across from him, Pansy moaned, clutching her own breasts, as she rode Daphne's face. Apparently, the blonde could give as well as she got, judging by the flush creeping up Pansy's neck and the satisfied expression on her face, eyes closed and mouth hanging slightly open.

Harry was struck by one of the more absurd thoughts he'd never considered before: was it rude to stare at the other participant of a threesome? Pansy and him hadn't really done anything with each other, technically, was he supposed to focus entirely on Daphne?

Thankfully, Pansy helped to answer this question for him without it needing to be asked, as her eyes fluttered open and her gaze swept over Harry down to where his cock was pistoning in and out of Daphne's sex.

"Not bad, Potter" Pansy started, her smug tone undercut by the tiny gasp in the middle of her words, "but you aren't using it right."

"I don't get many complaints, Parkinson," Harry answered, leaning forwards to increase the depth of his thrusts despite his confident statement.

"Here," Pansy continued, "This is how it's done. Merlin's sake, you won't break her."

She leaned forwards, grabbing Daphne's legs behind the knee, pulling them towards herself and changing the angle of Harry's penetration to one that, judging by the muffled moans coming from between Pansy's legs, was very enjoyable for Daphne. It also brought Harry and Pansy closer together, turning the position into something vaguely resembling a triangle with Daphne at the base, and Harry and Pansy at either side.

"Honestly, you're helpless, aren't you," Pansy breathed, the blush reaching her face. Fuck, she's beautiful.

Impulsively, Harry chose not to answer with words, instead breaching the distance between the two of them, seizing one of her nipple piercings in his hand and twisting, not hard enough to hurt, but too firmly to be ignored.

At the same time as he realized that he could have just made a grave misstep of Pansy's boundaries, Pansy froze – not in fear or surprise, but with a nearly-silent moan as her mouth formed a perfect "o" shape as she came. Harry's fleeting worries disappeared entirely as her orgasm abated, Pansy leaning forwards, lifting off of Daphne's face (whose legs fell onto Harry's shoulders), crushing her face into his and pushing her tongue into his mouth.

Harry was amazed that he still registered the muttered "oh, fuck that's hot" coming from Daphne as he and Pansy attacked each other's faces, gripping her breasts as he began to thrust wildly into Daphne, Pansy's hand trailing down his body and between Daphne's legs where she began to rub at Daphne's clit.

Daphne's second orgasm of the night pushed Harry's cock out of her entirely, her legs falling from his shoulders. She muttered something, her words indistinct and mostly consisting of vaguely pleasurable sounds. Pansy detached from Harry, sidling along Daphne, stroking the other woman's breasts and kissing (surprisingly gently, for Pansy's approach so far) the side of her face and neck.

His cock still bobbed hard between his legs as if in protest, but Harry was content to just watch the scene of surprising tenderness as he caught his breath, his heart pounding in his ears. Daphne gently pulled Pansy against her, then overtop of her, Pansy's back arching, her serpent tattoo writhing as her ass wiggled from side to side.

It was, surprisingly, Daphne who first broke the reprieve, her hands coming down hard over Pansy and onto her ass, firmly gripping a cheek in each hand. Daphne proceeded to spread Pansy open, pulling the globes of her ass apart and revealing her shining, entirely-shaved sex and small, pink arsehole.

"Harry." Daphne said, and he understood, moving towards the pair of women. He worried, momentarily, that Pansy hadn't been the one to tell him to come fuck her, but since she seemed to favour action over words, he tried to put this concern out of mind as he slid the head of his cock against her soaking pussy. When Pansy pushed back against him, hard, sheathing him entirely inside her in one strong thrust, he stopped worrying and started to fully enjoy himself.

Pansy

Pansy was dying. Or dead.

She was sure of it.

This had to be one of the more unusual variations of heaven.

Nothing else could explain the madness of this situation, with Daphne Greengrass pressed against her chest, sucking on her ear, and Harry fucking Potter, well, fucking her. His cock filled her very, very well, and a stray thought in the back of her head told her that she'd been missing out on being fucked like this for Merlin knows how long.

She pressed her fingers into Daphne, curling upwards, fucking the blonde woman with her fingers as Harry fucked Pansy herself from behind, her motions rough, needful. Harry leaned over her to kiss Daphne as Pansy took the opportunity to bite at Daphne's neck, then her other hand somehow found its way into Harry's black hair, pulling his mouth away from Daphne to her own.

Things continued like this, for how long Pansy could never say, as rational thought and the ability to keep track of time disappeared in the press of the three bodies rocking against each other on Daphne's couch, Pansy rapidly discovering the benefits of having a beautiful woman underneath her and an admittedly fit man overtop her.

As their bodies collided, a trio connected through sex, their kisses grew desperate, sloppy. Sometimes she'd kiss Daphne, sometimes Harry would. Sometimes Harry would bite at the side of her neck or nibble at her ear, other times it was Daphne doing so as her and Harry danced their tongues together. At one point, the three of them had all pressed their faces together, a messy, wet, three-person kiss where each of them kissed the other two at once.

It was Daphne who broke first, crying out a moan, her hips jerking and pussy spasming around Pansy's fingers, who was not going to take it easy on Greengrass; her efforts were rewarded as Daphne screamed, a gush of fluid splashing against Pansy's waist, a moan escaping both hers and Harry's lips as Harry began thrusting more wildly, less timed, striking deep spots inside of her that sent waves crashing through her pussy.

"Fuck. Fuck. Daph!.. Harry!" Pansy moaned as her orgasm overtook her, her entire body going rigid, dimly aware that Daphne had hooked her legs around both her and Harry, holding Harry's hips against Pansy, ensuring that as his own breaths grew ragged and he came with a growled "Fuck!" that he filled her with his cum, setting off a secondary, smaller orgasm in Pansy, moaning her approval out loud.

Pansy lost track of how many minutes the trio spent laying atop of each other, eventually rolling apart but laying side-by-side on Daphne's couch, Pansy arranged between Harry and Daphne and all three idly playing with each others' hair, or stroking skin, or gently gripping different parts of each others' bodies.

Eventually, Daphne disentangled herself from the other two, standing, stretching in a way that reminded Pansy of a tiger at rest.

"I'm going to bed," Daphne announced, her tone only slightly imperious. "You're both coming."

Mm. Pansy thought. I'll bet. Her and Harry languidly arose, exchanging a couple of glances that promised some kind of discussion to happen later, but at this point, Pansy was perfectly content to enjoy the rest of the night (and perhaps morning) and leave that conversation for another day.

There's always another chance to be on their best behaviour, after all.